A painstaking work of family history sense-making. Violaine’s unflagging dedication to her research reveals a moving adoration of her late father and grandfather. Yet her insistence on sharing irrelevant details is exhausting, dragging the book’s pace ... This, among other asides, provokes questions about Huisman’s chosen form: Is a novel really suited to such meticulous personal storytelling? The Monuments of Paris is perplexingly reportorial, and would be significantly improved by the invention typically mandated by fiction.
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